


Two Years Later

by zarabithia



Category: DCU (Comics), Teen Titans (Comics)
Genre: M/M, aka the first time dc took kon from us, fucking superman is a robin rite of passage, post infinite crisis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-23
Updated: 2018-01-23
Packaged: 2019-03-08 15:02:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 938
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13460727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zarabithia/pseuds/zarabithia
Summary: Tim celebrates his 18th birthday with Superman.  But all roads lead to Tim/Kon, even two years later.





	Two Years Later

**Author's Note:**

> This was written in 2006. I knew nothing except that DC hurts us. Which, as it turns out, remains true!

Tim knew that he wasn't the first Robin to have done this. That honor would have gone to Dick.   While Tim would just as soon not think too much about the second Robin’s sex life, from what he’d heard, Jason hadn’t exactly been discriminating in his sexual partners. It was possible that Superman hadn’t wanted Jason, of course, but given Superman’s apparent Robin fetish, Tim didn’t think it was very likely.  And Stephanie?  Well, Tim had heard all *about* the fourth Robin’s times with Superman.

Thus, when Superman appeared on his doorstep the night of his eighteenth birthday, Tim wasn’t at all surprised. Wasn’t fucking Superman was a rite of passage for all Robins?  It was merely Tim’s turn.

But Superman seemed to sense that Tim was different from the other Robins.  Though Superman’s smile was inviting, his touch gentle, and his want genuine, he seemed to notice the way Tim’s want differed from the other Robins.

Really, it *had* been two years since Kon’s death. Wasn’t it a little bit ridiculous to still hurt every time he saw a red ‘S’?

Yes, it *was* ridiculous, just as it was childish to ache for the black background instead of the blue.

Yet, for all of the foolishness that Tim readily admitted he possessed, it was these foolish reasons - the complete lack of Kon, the desperate need Tim still had for him, and the acute unfairness of having Kon snatched away - that drove Tim to carry out his rite of passage.

Tim made it through the kisses okay. They felt a little too tender to Tim, but most kissers were on the gentle side, so never mind that Kon’s kisses would have left his lips sore when their mouths parted. Tim ignored the nagging thought and pressed his mouth more firmly against Superman’s lips.

He also ignored Superman’s pleas to call him “Clark.”  Tim didn’t want *Clark*. . . well, actually, he didn’t want Superman, either, but he was *trying* to ignore that fact.

Tim managed to keep his facade up until they laid down on the bed together. Superman, as it turned out, was a bottom.

Kon *never* would have been a bottom.

It was in that moment, as Tim mounted Superman, that part of him - the part that had been forced to smile and laugh and in general, act happy for the past two years - snapped.  Anger at having lost Kon bubbled beneath the surface of Tim’s balled up fists, which pounded against Superman’s naked chest in frustration.  Hate spilt over as Tim’s fingernails raked across Superman’s flawless skin.  Annoyance manifested itself as Tim hastily pushed Superman’s *too* gentle hands away from the scars they were trying to trace on Tim’s body.  Desperation claimed Tim’s actions as the palms of his hands smacked against Superman’s expansive chest.

Through it all, *want* forced Tim to thrust harder into Superman than he ever would have anyone else, both because Superman *could take it* and because Superman wasn’t the one Tim *wanted.*

Tim could have told him no and Superman would have left.  But . . . Tim couldn’t have told him no, because there were moments during the act that Tim’s hands were accidentally gentle, and during those moments, Superman’s muscles rippled against Tim’s own in a perfect imitation of the body that Tim had spent the majority of his teenage years wanting. The face wasn’t right. . . the name wasn’t right. . .but the muscles almost were.  So between the anger, hate, annoyance, and desperation came brief moments of need that both Superman and Tim tried to appease.

Neither of them were entirely successful, but in the end, no sex lasts forever, not even for the Man of Steel.  When they were finished, Clark dressed in a fashion that seemed awfully slow for the second fastest man alive, and Tim didn’t bother to get out of bed. 

Tim thought about apologizing. He thought about showing remorse for not being the hero- worshiping Robin that Dick had been, the enthusiastic Robin that Jason had been, or even the experienced Robin that Stephanie had been.  But it was merely a thought, which Tim dismissed. After all, he could have been all of those things, if Superman had been someone else.

“I still miss him too,” Superman said to Tim, once his clothes were back in place and the long cape flew regally behind him.  Tim’s throat tightened at the words. Not trusting himself to speak, he shrugged instead, as though Kon’s memory was a mere inconvenience, instead of the all consuming presence that Tim was sure it always would be.

Superman didn’t seem to know how to handle Tim’s lack of communication.  Tim wondered what that said about *him* - Superman, had, after all, been dealing with *Batman* for years without any trouble. 

But Superman didn’t know how to deal with Tim, so he flew away.  Tim watched him go, and thought about the complete lack of evidence on either of their bodies that they had spent the night together.  Superman’s body was without a scratch, bruise, or any other discernable trace of the abuse Tim had displayed.  That wasn’t really all that miraculous, of course.  Superman’s body was strong, perfect, indestructible. . . and always, always alive.

It was a far more amazing feat that with all of Superman’s power, Tim had escaped the night without a single mark upon his body.  There wasn’t so much as a solitary bruise on him anywhere. Superman had been *very* careful. Tim couldn’t focus too long on that fact without wanting to break down, because of one indisputable fact that rested in the back of Tim’s mind.

Kon would have left bruises.  



End file.
